A familiar muffled laugh had her turning, but before she could look, the curtain was being pulled back and the group was filing to the front of the stage. Jenna’s gaze swept the crowd. The auditorium was remarkably full for a holiday. A check of the reserved seats at the front assured her that Cole’s family was in place and already beaming. Behind them, her family filled most of the next row. Neenee, her sisters, Margie . . . they had all jumped at the chance to share in the day. As Bree had said, Cole was family now, which meant they had a duty to sit up front and cheer loudly enough to embarrass him.
Not that Bree was cheering at the moment. In fact, she was staring at her phone with the greatest expression of bewilderment Jenna had seen from her since the day Margie announced she was taking up jogging. Something was definitely up.
Jenna couldn’t wait for this story.
A movement at the back of the room caught her attention. Rob slipped in, quietly and at the last second, as he had promised when he asked if he could attend. He would be gone before the applause was over. If luck was with them, no one would even notice he’d been there.
But Jenna would. And she was okay with that.
She was jerked back to the moment by Allison’s finger poking her in the side.
“You’re on, kiddo.”
Sure enough, the judge at the podium was nodding in her direction. No sooner had she taken her place than the crowd burst into applause—not for her, she knew, but for Cole, striding confidently across the stage. As promised, the Elias women erupted in cheers, whistles, and a deep whoo whooo whoo. Annie raised a sign that said, YOU GO BRO.
A wave of totally ridiculous sentiment washed over her. Damn but she was glad she was sticking around town.
Then Cole was beside her, and the rest of them—the staff, the judge, the audience—slipped into the background. She guided his hand onto the Bible, giving it a surreptitious squeeze before releasing it. He winked. She grinned.
And as Cole repeated the words of his oath, Jenna knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Don’t miss the next Calypso Falls Romance!
Keep reading for a sneak preview of Bree’s story, available soon from InterMix.
Bree Elias hated not knowing what to do.
Of course, she had long ago learned that there was a time and a place—and, sometimes, a moral imperative—to fake her way through some things. Like shaking hands with people she didn’t know when her father the Mayor used to take his daughters campaigning with him. Or thunderstorms, after Dad vanished and her mother was at work and Bree was in charge of her terrified little sisters. Or her first day as a Teaching Assistant when she looked out on a sea of undergrad faces and immediately forgot everything she had ever learned about Freud, Erikson, Piaget, and Skinner.
Some situations, though, took more than the big smile and swift Google search abilities that she had developed over the years. Thanks to her disappearing-reappearing-father-the-felon, she’d had her share and then some of being knocked sideways by circumstances. She didn’t need any more, thank you very much.
Except that one of them was staring back at her right now. From an email. One she should have read more carefully when she received it, but seriously, the Dean had sent it out five days before Christmas, right in the middle of final grade and shopping season, and then all of her sisters had been home for the holidays, and now it was New Year’s Day and her future brother-in-law was being sworn in as Mayor of Calypso Falls, and—well—who would have thought that an email could go from welcome to WTF in one careful reading?
Something that felt suspiciously like a fingernail poked her in the ribs, jolting her back to her chair, the auditorium, the audience applauding.
“Wake up, Bree.” Her mother’s whisper carried no less power now than it had when Bree was a kid. “Here they come.”
Bree shot one last, desperate glance at her phone before shoving it deep into her quilted bag. “Sorry,” she whispered, and focused on clapping wildly while her sister Jenna held the Bible on which Cole Dekker placed his hand while he took the oath of office.
This was a special day, a celebration of much more than simply winning the election. Cole and Jenna had met when she volunteered with his campaign. And who had suggested that Jenna work for him? Yep. That had been one of Bree’s better ideas. So she was determined to make the most of this day, to soak up as much of the happiness as she could and fill herself with good food and enjoy this extraordinary day in the life of her family.
Bree was nothing if not determined. If she decided to have fun, then damn it, fun would be had, and to hell with unsettling emails.
She did her best to memorize every moment of the ceremony. She reveled in the glow on Jenna’s face. She smiled gently as Cole stumbled over his own name and felt her heart melt a little as he kissed Jenna when the ceremony was over. She was first to jump to her feet when the ceremony ended, and she was the loudest in her cheers for the new Mayor.
Considering that her Aunt Margie’s whoop-whoops had often been compared to those of a bull moose, this was quite an achievement.
But when they filed out of the auditorium and into the official reception, her thoughts of cheese and champagne were interrupted by her sister Annie’s shoulder deliberately bumping against her.
“So what had you staring at your phone like it was sending you texts from Satan himself?”
Bree stifled a sigh. She’d had a lifetime of practice in the hard truth of No Secrets, No Privacy, but a small part of her still clung to the hope that maybe someday . . .
Eh. Given the choice between her sisters and secrecy, family would win every time. Especially her sisters. And Annie, despite being the youngest, was already the owner of her own day care center, which meant that she had plenty of practice in making sense of the ridiculous and confusing. Since that was approximately the situation in which Bree now found herself, Annie’s advice was probably the best she could find.
“You know that committee I was appointed to? The town and gown one?”
“The one that’s supposed to—what was it—encourage cooperation and open dialogue between Calypso Falls and the university?” Annie’s mildly mocking tone conveyed her true feelings about the group better than her words ever would. “Yeah, I remember. What about it? You came to your senses and resigned?”
“No I did not. This is a great chance for me to add to my credentials. I’m going to be job-hunting pretty soon, and I’m not going to pass up on this chance to get some pertinent volunteer experience.” She lowered her voice. “Except it’s going to be a little . . . awkward.”
“What’s gonna be awkward?” Aunt Margie boomed as they approached the table loaded with appetizers. Bree spotted puff pastry. Her spirits jumped.
“Well, usually that means Dad,” Annie said. “But I don’t see how he could interfere with your committee, Bree. That’s a stretch even for him, and give the man his due, he can mess up where no man could mess before.”
“It’s a gift.” Margie grabbed their elbows and steered them toward a far corner, ignoring Bree’s yip of protest. “Yeah, I know. You’re hungry. But you’re not getting anything until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Margie . . .”
“Spill or I’ll tell your mother there’s a problem.” Margie nodded sagely. “And you know what she gets like when she thinks one of her babies has a problem.”
“Better do it, Bree,” Annie said. “You don’t want Mom going all ninja in the middle of Cole’s first official appearance as mayor.”
“Fine.” The sooner Bree got this out of the way, the sooner Margie would release her and she could have her own special moment with the cheese tray. Life as a doctoral candidate/T.A. might be a little more secure than it had been when she was McJobbing her way through her Master’s, but she still was far from being in the position to turn down free food. “So I got an email about the commit
tee back before the semester ended, but I didn’t look at it carefully. You know. Final grades and Christmas and everything. Today while we were waiting for things to start, I was doing a careful read of my flagged mail, and I took a look at who else is part of this group.” She grimaced.
“Hang on,” Margie said. “There’s only a few people in this world who make you look like you just sucked a salted lemon. You sure it’s not your father?”
“Not this time.”
“Hmm.” Margie rubbed her jaw. “Any Kardashians in town lately?”
Annie, however, had a most unnerving gleam in her eyes. “Bet I know.”
“How?” Margie demanded. “She hasn’t even given us a hint.”
“Don’t need one. All it takes is a little deductive reasoning. Exhibit A.” She ticked one finger. “It’s obviously someone Bree knows and has either wounded or doesn’t respect.”
“Or like,” Margie said, but Annie shook her head.
“No. Bree is fair. She might not like someone, but if they are doing their best and they’re fair and honest, she will still respect them and do her best to work with them.”
“Thank you.” Bree said. “Even though I don’t really enjoy being talked about as if I wasn’t standing here beside you.”
“Exhibit B, the committee is university and town. Which doesn’t narrow things down too much, but other than the ass in the registrar’s office–”
“Death on his house,” Margie intoned.
“And the Dean, of course,” Annie continued, “Bree doesn’t gripe about too many DeMotte people. So it has to be someone in town. Maybe someone who is bringing professional expertise to the subject. This committee is making plans for some kind of garden, right?”
The knot in Bree’s stomach had nothing to do with hunger anymore. Each word from Annie’s mouth was another reminder of what—or, rather, who—she would need to go toe-to-toe with in the very near future. “Right. An urban garden that straddles the town and Demotte border. Lots of fruit trees and berry bushes and things that folks can harvest together. Get to know each other.” She winced. “Spend time together.”
Comprehension dawned on Margie’s round face. “Someone from town, who knows about plants—”
“Because he owns a landscaping business,” Annie interrupted.
“And who Bree doesn’t like.”
“More like someone who’s inclined to not like Bree,” Annie added, far too gleefully for Bree’s level of happy. “Not after she let loose on him that day he came into the diner when she was waitressing there.”
“Oh God.” Margie let loose with a hoot of laughter that had the entire room turning their way and Bree’s sister Kyrie high-tailing it toward them. “You get to work with Spencer James?”
Kyrie skidded to a halt between Annie and Margie. “Hang on. Did I just hear the name of Bree’s high school nemesis?”
Bree tried not to wince.
“Yep,” Annie said. “Bree has to be on a committee with him.”
Kyrie’s mouth sagged. “You’re kidding.”
“Look,” Bree said in a rush. “Let’s get things clear, okay? I don’t care about high school.”
“That’s not what you said when he beat you for valedictorian,” Kyrie said. “I think Jenna still has that videotape of you throwing pillows all over your room while you shrieked about how much you hated his smirking, slimy ass.”
“I remember that!” Annie said. “That was, like, the ultimate Bree meltdown. Other than when we found out Dad was still alive, I mean.”
Kyrie, Annie, and Margie exchanged loaded glances.
“Epic,” said Kyrie.
“Terrifying,” added Annie.
Margie simply shivered.
“Oh for God’s sake,” said Bree. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re right,” Kyrie said. “It was minor compared to the way she unloaded on him to his face after he left university.”
“He didn’t leave,” Bree protested. Ooops. Too loud. Faces were turning their way, including her mother’s and damn it, the crowd around the appetizer table was three deep. “He got himself kicked out.”
“Blew his scholarship,” Annie said.
“Wasted everything his parents had invested in him,” Kyrie chimed in. Gleefully, of course.
Bree would have pissed, but she knew that at heart, her sisters understood. They knew that Bree had no patience for anyone who chose to squander the gifts and advantages that had been given to them. And seriously, who could blame her? So much of her life—and theirs—had been spent dealing with the fall-out from their father choosing to do just that. She wasn’t inclined to waste a whole lot of energy or sympathy on someone who’d had his schooling handed to him on the proverbial silver platter, then got kicked out for dealing something a whole lot more potent than a parsley garnish.
And if, one time, she had let her feelings slip . . . in public . . . could anyone blame her?
“Look,” she said now, “I admit I was an idiot. Chewing him out in front of a diner full of people was stupid, true, but nothing compared to what he did.”
“Not that you’d ever know from the way people talked about it,” Kyrie said.
Bree closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke as slowly and calmly as she could manage. “Annie. What do you tell your daycare kids to do when they have a fight with another kid?”
“Apologize, of course.”
“I need specifics. Step by step instructions.”
“Oh. Well, I tell them, you have to say you’re sorry, and promise to never do it again.”
Bree nodded. She could do that. Truthfully, too.
“The other thing I tell them is that they have to listen to what the injured party says. And if the other person isn’t ready to accept an apology yet, well, they have that right.”
“Uh-oh.” Margie shook her head. “That Spence is a proud one, Bree. He might not be too willing to forgive and forget.”
The knot in Bree’s stomach tightened once more. Apologies, she could offer. She could never condone what Spence had done, but she’d had no right to dress him down, especially in public.
“Could he make things difficult for you?” There was no teasing lilt in Kyrie’s voice anymore.
“Maybe.” Force of habit had Bree downplaying the possibility, but she knew the potential was there. The committee needed Spence. He could bring years of professional experience to the project. All Bree could offer was her enthusiasm and willingness to work, which could come from almost any randomly selected PhD candidate.
She really hoped that somewhere in that array of puff pastry and meatballs and cheese, someone had thought to include a giant freakin’ humble pie.
Kris Fletcher is also the author of the Calypso Falls novella, The Bridesmaid and the Bachelor. She writes about small towns, big families, and love that grows despite them.
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
Life of the Party Page 28
